The Broken Blade
by Arashi21
Summary: Tells the story of Aishi the Mournful Blade as the meditates on her actions before being confronted by Lu the Prodigy. sideproject before new chapter in MoS


Disclaimer-I do not own any of the characters, settings, or stories of Jade Empire. I only own the game and was inspired to write this story from a story in the game.

Jade Empire

The Broken Blade 

Note- this story is read through the PoV of multiple characters, will indicate a change in PoV.

A thousand screams waged war in my mind, each fighting to be the loudest, to he heard among the others. Of course, in the end, that one scream would always win. Closing my eyes did not help either. Even as I attempted to meditate, in front of the pillar I could still see the death and destruction I had brought. The orange, smoldering flames as entire towns burned to the ground, simply to avenge a petty dispute. I led a mob of men to slaughter helpless peasants, simply so they could take their possessions to sell for their own profit. I have done wore before and since, but none of these crimes, absolved myself of the guilt which plagued my youth.

The image of that boy, clinging to a rock in that fast-moving river, looking like a drenched rat, and screaming from the top of his lungs with sheer terror as the current tried to wrench him from the rock, was burned into my mind. Even worse, was the feeling of guilt that swirled around my heart, strangling and burning my chest all at once; I could have helped him, I could have saved that poor boy from death, but the hand on my arm held me fast. I was not bound by strength, but by love. The boy I loved, whose drive and leadership inspired me, held me in my place. His grasp was like a chain and his words were the lock and key that kept me where I stood. I looked into his eyes that day, hoping to see in his own eyes what drove him to push the boy into the river, and why he was stopping me from saving him now. I saw in my love's eyes hollowness. His gaze was cold and unrelenting, and the same glint that he wore when he pushed the boy into the river remained as he spoke: "If we help him, he'll only tell the others what we've done. We have to let him go."

In his voice was the drive I had always seen in him. His words were completely serious. There was meaning in his words that seemed to transcend my own judgment, and I believed him. He walked away, with me following behind, as always, but I turned back for a moment and saw the river as it finally managed to pry the boy from his rock. His shrill cries suddenly and abruptly cut off as the ruthless river swallowed him up. I tried to quickly turn away, but it was too late, I had seen the image, and now it was burned in my mind. Even today, more than two decades later, I still see those images. I hear his cries and I hear the words of my love as he cast the boy away. No crime I ever committed, no amount of screaming I had caused would ever wash away those things. Pain was my life since that day. I could never have a "normal" life for what I had done. Instead I became an engine of destruction, killing, pillaging, and burning just to drown out my own pain. But in the end, the screams of that boy still remained. They echoed the loudest among the thousands of others. They wore at me, made my young body feel old. I feel tired now, tired of my life. My story is nothing but tragedy, but like all other stories, it needs to be finished, it needs an ending. If I want to properly finish my story, there is one final thing i must do, one final crime I must commit, before my sad story can finally end…

Suddenly, I became aware of myself again, I felt the cold stone beneath me; I felt the breeze as it caressed through my hair. I smelled the stench of blood as I remembered the body lying next to me: The body of a hunter who, in his arrogance, thought to kill me to claim the bountiful reward on my head. He thought I would prove little challenge, but the arrogant hunter did not know of my past, he did not know of the thousands of people I had slaughtered. Peasants and skilled fighters alike fell to my blades easily, just as he did. I only had to strike him once with my blades before he fell. His motives were fueled by greed and bloodlust. They were not as strong as mine.

Then, I heard footsteps behind me; they walked slowly, but with great strength, as if they belonged to a man with a great burden on his shoulders. I heard them as they clicked on the black stones behind me until they stopped. It was then that I spoke:

"My name is Aishi the Mournful Blade, and if you are another hunter come to claim my head, I suggest you turn around and walk away." I then turned my head slightly in the direction of the corpse beside me, directing the new hunter's eyes toward it as a testament to my power. "That one didn't listen to me; I hope you have more sense."

But this hunter did not walk away. Perhaps he was as arrogant as the others. I could sense his strength, he was a powerful fighter, but I still had something to do before my death, and not even this one was going to get in my way.

I suddenly heard the hunter's voice, it sounded different than what I expected. He sounded young, perhaps younger than me, but his voice was also filled with strength, he had a unique power within himself that I had never sensed before.

"An old Man told me you have a story to tell," he said to me.

I opened my eyes upon hearing this. An old man? What could that possibly mean? How could anyone know of my story and what it meant to me? Still, I hid my surprise from the hunter. Perhaps it was a trap to get me to drop my guard. Nevertheless, I spoke of my story to this hunter.

"I have a tale to finish," I said. "I see no need to tell it to anyone but myself."

I felt the burning guilt rise up in my chest again as I spoke those words to the hunter. That was enough; I had no reason to spill my story to a hunter who had come simply to claim my head. There would be no more talking between us. I decided to warn him only once more.

"Stranger, if you continue to talk to me, I will stand up and face you. If that happens, our meeting will end with one of our deaths."

But again, the hunter did not move. He spoke again, as he did, I heard to fear, or reluctance in his voice. He was calm, and confident as he spoke.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

I sighed softly. Though I did not wish to take another life, I was more than willing to defend my own, at least until my tale could end.

"So be it."

I stood and turned to face the hunter, I don't know why, but I wanted to see his face before the battle ensued. When I looked upon him, I looked upon a man that I did not expect.

He was not like the other hunters; his blue tunic and yellow sash were not that uncommon, but his face showed compassion and his stance showed peace. He was a fighter, of that I am sure, but he didn't seem to have the bloodlust of a hunter. This one was truly honorable.

"You're not what I expected," I told him. "Harmony surrounds you and flows out into the world as you pass." And I spoke the truth to him. He walked the High Path, and I could almost see the wave of harmony around him. I felt that, for once, this hunter did not come to me for the price on my head. Perhaps the gods had sent him to be the one to help me finish my tragic story.

"I have a story I would share willingly with you, if you would hear it."

"Let's hear this tale of yours." He replied. But I wanted to test him first. I wanted to know if he would truly help me.

"Do you know anything of me?" I asked him. "Anything of the terror that is Aishi the Mournful Blade?"

"Why don't you tell me in your own words?" he said. That was all I needed to hear.

And so I told him; I told him of the loneliness in my youth. I told him of the thousands of lives I had erased from this earth. I told him of the towns I had destroyed and the lives I had ruined. I even told him how my descent began, with the young man I loved, and the boy who died at our hands in the river that day. I let him know that the screams of that boy still haunted me to this day.

Finally, the hunter asked me who the boy was that stopped me. I had never lost track of him as I descended into the shadows and he ascended to power in the Imperial Army. For my part in the boy's death, I have never forgotten, I have felt constant pain and sorrow, which is what earned me the title of Mournful Blade. But he cared little for that boy's life. I now believe it was his intention to push that boy into the river; it was even his intention that he drown. Yet, he never felt any guilt, any remorse at all for it. The boy's life was nothing to him, just another obstacle. He had probably removed many "obstacles" from his path to get where he was today. So I told this hunter the identity of the boy I was in love with. The boy I loved was now the man who had sent the many hunters after me to begin with. I told him that it was Captain Sen who I loved, who let that boy drown, and who deserved to suffer as much as that boy.

The hunter seemed surprised at my answer, but obviously, having dealt with Sen before, did not think it was unlikely. So finally, I told the hunter of my plan: he would escort me to Sen's station by the gate while I acted as a "subdued" prisoner. Once I got close enough to him, then I would make him pay for the boy's life

"If what you say is true," said the hunter. "Sen deserves what's coming to him."

I couldn't have agreed more.

I turned for to gather my blades, which I had placed upon the altar, then turned to the stranger, and gave him a small, appreciative smile.

"Let's go write an ending to my tale."

Anyone want me to finish it?


End file.
